WHEN my late grandmother was a girl, she was most impressed by the only commuter in the village because of the hats he wore. She was used to seeing men wearing tweed caps or going to Newmarket or to church in a trilby (interesting that the races and God warranted the same hat). However, the gentleman she remembered especially had an additional set of headwear that was necessary to go ‘up to’ London: a stiff and very formal black hat, possibly a Homburg or a bowler.
‘Your headgear said as much about you as it did about what you were getting up to’
Until relatively recently, it was unthinkable to see anyone outdoors without a hat and your choice of headgear said as much about you as a person as it did about what you were getting up to. Hats—for both men and women—are primarily mundane and practical. They protect your head from rain, sunburn and dirt. In an age of Friday-only baths, they also protected the onlooker from seeing your greasy curls.
